Chapter 36
Hellie
I creep into the house like the ghost I am.
This life is no longer mine, and I can feel that I don’t belong in it anymore as I tiptoe down to the basement.
I know Doug’s mom is on duty tonight, but I imagine that at three thirty in the morning, she’s fast asleep. Still, I keep
quiet just in case. I’m not interested in any more goodbyes.
In the dim glow of the night-lights, I pack my things. Clothes, makeup, some books, my old CD collection. It all fits into
one duffel bag and two boxes. I don’t want any of Doug’s stuff, even the things I could get money for like his gaming system
and his guitar. It’s his, and if it’s going to go to waste here in the basement because he gets locked away, that no longer
has anything to do with me.
I make a stop in the kitchen to scrawl a quick note to Doug’s mom.
Dear Tammy,
I want you to know that I loved your son, but I can’t do this anymore.
I’m sorry for everything.
Love,
Helen Halloran
I sign my maiden name and it feels right.
For so long, I told myself I was loyal. That’s what made me different from my mom. That’s what would give my life worth. What
gave me worth.
It turns out my loyalty met its limit. I’m not sure what that says about me. And I’m not sure I need to find out.
It’s onward now. Out to the car that thank God is in my name since Doug’s credit was so bad. I slide my two boxes into the
hatchback trunk and thunk my duffel bag into the back seat. Then I climb in and drive away. I don’t know where I’m going,
so at a stoplight I pull up my GPS and type Montana. Big Sky Country, they call it, and right now, a big sky sounds nice. I should have just enough money in my checking account
to pay for the gas, and I’ll figure it out from there.
Soon, I’m merging onto I-94 heading west. It’s quarter after four and apparently I have twenty-one hours to go. It’ll be nice
to see the sun rise. My phone rings—Will. I put him on speakerphone.
“Hi,” I say, and then I yawn. I’ll need coffee soon.
“Hi,” he says.
“You driving?”
“Yep. Are you home?”
“Actually, I’m driving too.”
“Where to?”
I laugh, and the sound of my laugh surprises me. “Montana.”
There’s a long silence.
“Have you thought about Indy?” he says.
“You have a job for me at Dick’s Sporting Goods?”
“If you want.”
I try to think about this, but I can’t seem to imagine it. Will saved me from doing something really stupid—even though he
has no idea—and I truly don’t want to let him down . . . but I’m not making promises to anyone yet. Just because someone does
something for you, doesn’t mean you owe them.
At least, that’s what I’m telling myself, because it’s the only way I’m allowed to leave this all behind.
“I’ll think about it, Will.”
There’s a long silence. So long that I wonder if he’s hung up. Then his voice comes, low and scratchy.
“I . . . I’m sorry about Doug.”
“It was his choice,” I say simply.
“Should we have said something?”
I know what he really wants to know. What were you about to say to the police? The truth is, I was about to say it was an accident. I’d been planning for Will and me to alibi each other, just like we’d
decided in that spastic rush following Jenn’s death, until the cops actually showed up and I realized that if we didn’t speak
up, we were putting seven other people—most of whom we cared for—through a nightmare they didn’t deserve.
You could say I lost my nerve. I’m choosing to think of it more as I got my nerve.
I’d been planning to explain that I went to the basement to make up with Jenn after our fight, except we got into another
altercation, during which she fell. After all, forensics would check Jenn’s fingernails at some point and find my DNA, from
when her nails dug into my wrists during our fight in the living room. I’d seen the crime shows. I knew how this all happened.
Better to speak up right away. Especially because I knew how I would seem to them—and to a jury, if God forbid it ever came
to that. Likable. Delicate. Vulnerable. I had a good chance—better than anyone else who might be accused—at getting acquitted.
When Doug stepped up, it’s possible that he did save me, though who knows how my confession would have been taken.
I guess Doug will never know that he actually saved someone else.
Which in a previous life—the life I had before today—might have bothered me. But it’s no longer my job to sort out the justice of the situation, or try to cover for Doug, or pull him out of the pit he willingly dug for himself.
“No,” I finally say to Will. “We all make choices. And at some point we have to be accountable for them.”
Will makes a murmuring sound, then says, “I’d better go. I need coffee and there’s a McDonald’s coming up at this exit.”
“Drive safe.”
“You too.”
He hangs up first.
I think of the first time I set eyes on Doug at that Denny’s where I worked in high school. The sweat under my uniform, because
the AC was half-broken. The ink scrawl of his number on the napkin. His generous tip in my pocket. The memory of his smile.
It’s useless to wonder what would have happened to me if I hadn’t called him.
The miles slip by.
My old life slips by.
At some point, the sky is pink. I realize I’m going ninety.
The sun is rising. I’m not a crier, but in this moment, my chest feels tight. I could really let it all go in the privacy
of the car, but I don’t. I suppose, though I’m certainly shedding some old habits, that others die hard.
Montana is ahead. The world is ahead.
I know I’ll be alright.
I always am.